Starter for Seven
by BritishAlien
Summary: Inspired by the 'Endgame' extra on the Survival DVD. A super sleuth and the Doctor. Always an explosive match! x


**Starter for Seven**

Inspired by the documentary on the Survival DVD release about the 'lost' series.

Doctor: Seventh

Companion: Cecilia

Hope you enjoy! xxx 3

-x-x-x-

The party was in full swing as it should be. The grand hall was laced in velvet curtains and ornaments from the four corners of the world sat neatly on tables to the guest's amusement. Marble weaved in and out of the oak wood finishing. A large staircase acted as the centre piece of the room with a grand chandelier hanging above the dancers. Music sang its way around the grand hall, bounding off the tiled floor and gliding past the oak wood walls. The building was old, yet the party guests wanted to show otherwise. Tonight, they were having the time of their lives. The theme of the party was 1940s glamour. Women had replaced their strict 1980s clobber for divine 40s style. Silk dresses and hair that were reminiscent of sculptures of Aphrodite rather than tight buns and pony tails. Whilst men now sparkled in pristine black dinner jackets and very respectable black bow ties with their hair covered in so much brylcreem that it had turned solid. The whole evening was smooth.

Finally, a show of class in the midst of the ever changing 80s backdrop where the young were developing their own identities and the older generation were still reeling from the effects of the war. The main hall was filled with people dancing. An aging butler stood at the old gramophone, which had been especially taken out for the evening, ready to change the record to the next Glenn Miller hit or Bing Crosby ditty. His face showed nothing but professionalism, as he had been specifically asked for by the Lord of the Manor, but inside he was smiling, to relive his youth was a little known thing in this day and age. He was always happy to serve at Lord Montfrey's estate, despite the obvious falsity of the occasion. According to a rumour he had heard, Lord Montfrey had thrown this little party, not to celebrate the coming down of the Berlin Wall as it had said on the invite, but to try and get the Lady Ersham in to discuss….er….business. It was, of course, nothing but a rumour, but in these times, rumours were scandalous. But the waiter did his duty and watched as the party guests of a grand mixture of ages partied to 'Pennsylvania 65000' and boogied on down to Bing. Slowly losing themselves in the realm of the glamorous side of the 1940s. He smiled, knowing that this old fashioned party was just what the people in the room needed. Some escape.

However, next door in the grand library, sat two figures beside a glowing fireplace. Too worn from the party and unable to keep up with the varying crowd of local aristocracy's sons and daughters who would dance the night away in the name of freedom. Trying to build bridges between the leading aristocracy and links for the future would be an outcome of the evening, if not for the two sat in the library. They sat opposite to each other, sipping glasses of whiskey and staring into the warm heart of the fire.

'Why, Lord Montfrey, that painting behind you….does it show the winds and hills of the whispery Peak District?' Lady Ersham's clipped tones pierced the air. Lord Montfrey nodded. His large walrus-like moustache and wide smile beamed at her. His eyes twinkling. A memory glancing over his mind of his time up in the Peak District when he was a small boy. Running throughout the crags and peaks. Free of any care in the world. Oh how he wished to be a child again, young and hardy and free. All had changed since then, of course. He'd aged beyond recognition of his younger self and he'd lost his boyhood wish for exploration. Over his long lifetime he had exploited his love for the unknown, but now he had only one barrier to cross where the unknown was concerned. An old friend had once called it the final frontier that William Montfrey would never be able to cross. The barrier of love. The only things he had ever loved were his prized expeditionary equipment or those who had helped him out during his travels throughout the caverns or any of the jungles and rainforests of the world. He'd seen them all in his time, a real Sir Walter Raleigh, but neglected one thing about the world. Himself. Never thinking that he should settle down with someone and be happy. Never before had he noticed the beautiful Lady Grace Ersham who now sat in front of him glowing with a self-contained radiance that gladdened William's aging heart. Not in his wildest dreams would he have thought that he might even attempt a faint grasp at her love. But now he sat in the glorious expansive library at the heart of his Buckinghamshire Mansion, staring at her as though she was his last hope. And maybe she was.

'Why yes! Yes, it does. An old painting done by my great uncle Bertie just after the war. He returned from Service in deepest, darkest Asia, y'know? He never spoke to us about his time fighting, of course. He was so quiet after his experience. I could understand why. What he must have seen. Unimaginable. All I can remember him doing is painting. Sitting at the bottom of the garden, looking out onto the peaks and painting. When he died, I inherited most of his estate, including all his pictures. Thought I'd let that one hang pride of place in a room I spend all of my time in nowadays. Remind me of him and what we left behind.' William mumbled. There was a short silence of contemplation. What had he left behind when he had set out on his travels? Was it worth it?

'I can see why you like it.' Grace interceded. 'So elegant and beautiful. Your uncle was a marvellous painter. I should love to see more of his work.' Her eye lids fluttered like a newly formed butterfly. William's heart leaned in closer. He sat forward in the leather bound chair, picking up his glittering glass of half-finished whiskey on the coffee table. He sipped at it delectably and stared into Grace's eyes.

'One day, my dear. One day!' He promised. She chuckled. The promise of a good man was always one to keep close to your heart. She looked at the old china clock on the mantelpiece above the blazing fire.

'I would bet money that Cecelia has found your collection by now. She is so very good at finding what normally cannot be found. Just as you used to be.' Used to be?

'Ah, your daughter! Don't want her looking too hard. We don't know what she might unlock.' William was acting in all seriousness, but seeing the look on Grace's face he tried to pass it off as a joke. He chuckled before turning it into a cough and trying to move onto another subject. 'But yes, she is a fine spirited girl. Hopefully having a swinging time with the rest of my guests. A good time is all they need really. Formalised obviously. Have to create boundaries and rules. Exactly what the new generation needs with all the boom-boxes and tracksuits.' William chuckled. He'd heard about boom boxes on the wireless. No idea what they were, but knew that people around Cecilia's age would use them. The very name gave that feeling.

'I had better go and call her down. Don't wish to leave here too late. I have an appointment with Margaret to play croquet on the lawns at 10.' And with this, Grace leapt from her seat and wandered to the oak door that led into the grand hallway. The party was still flowing like a stream. Despite the latest song having ended, people were still waltzing around the room whilst the butler clumsily placed the next record on the gramophone. It was a beautiful room. Oh how she would love to spend her old age here. She knew she was old compared to those dancing in front of her, but when she could no longer rely on Cecilia for help. She could not depend on such a young girl making her way in the world. It would not be fair.

Grace weaved in and out of the guests and made her way to the grand staircase. She crept up to the first platform and then up to the first floor. There were so many rooms that came off this one landing that it would have taken her until the croquet match to find her daughter. She moved over to lean on the balustrade and made ready to beckon up to the highest heights of the Montfrey's home. 'Cecilia. We'd better be off soon, my dear. Don't want to be late for tomorrow.' Her voice travelled along the corridors of the Montfrey mansion, but were drowned out by the now swinging tunes of The Andrew's Sisters. No matter how much Grace called out, her call would never be heard.

-x-x-x-

Down a dark corridor of the Montfrey Mansion, a woman was on a mission. Her name was Cecilia Ersham. She had escaped the party atmosphere downstairs by professing that she had to go and powder her nose. Hardly the most lady like of excuses, but one that always worked. She had been searching for about fifteen minutes now and still she could not find what she was looking for. She had to find it before they left for her mother's croquet sleep. After all, what would her mother be without her croquet and William Montfrey breathing down her neck?

Another wooden door, they all looked the same to her. She pushed at it, but like all unhelpful times in the world, the door was locked. Cecilia tried a few more times, pushing, pulling, shaking the door handle until she was convinced that the door would not move. She stepped back and looked both ways down the corridor so that she could be certain that nobody was watching. The noise of the party downstairs was still loud and echoing around the corridors as though she was standing next to the speaker. Cecilia considered the door. Sizing it up for strength. She looked along the corridor once more before lifting her high-heeled right foot, leaning against the opposing wall and kicking the door handle. It made an almighty noise. She looked around again to see if she could hear any running footsteps heading in her direction. None. She tried again. Kicking the door with all her might. This time, a result of sorts. The door bounced slightly off its hinges and signalled to Cecilia that she was getting close. A few more swift kicks followed and the door was open. Breathing heavily, she placed her foot firmly back on the ground, steadying herself on the red high-heels, smoothed down her silk red dress and brushed back a loose hair that had fallen from her tightly tied bun. She looked down the corridor again and with all the confidence that her mother had shown on entering the library with William Montfrey, Cecilia marched forwards into the room.

It was dark inside and it would be foolish of her to switch on the light. Might attract attention. She reached into her small handbag and withdrew a small flashlight and a pair of gloves, which she put on immediately. She switched on the flashlight with a satisfying *click* and started to survey the room. She really hoped this was the right room because if not she had just dented perfectly good shoes for no reason. And who locked a perfectly normal door inside the house when at home? The light danced around the dark room, betraying to Cecilia that it must be some form of study that Lord Montfrey used when he was on important business. She bypassed a leather bound sofa and a writing desk before she found what she was looking for. Behind the desk stood a grand fireplace and on either side of it, sat two glorious paintings. One of which showed, what Cecilia reckoned, was the Peak District and the other depicted an Arabian scene. A glorious tent made out of silks sitting in a desert under the burning sun.

'The burning sun shall brighten the light' She repeated to herself. That was what she had been told by her Commander all those months ago.

She swung her small handbag around her neck and went over to the painting of the Arabian sands. She felt along its edges, only to discover a thin gap between it and the wall. She clung to the sides and pulled it from the wall. The painting swung on its hinges away from the wall and opened to show a locked safe. Oh she always loved this bit! She leant in and placed her fingers on the lock. Definitely locked. Maybe Montfrey wasn't as bumbling an old fool as he seemed? She started to twist the dial, hearing the satisfying *click* once again of a possible right digit. She turned it left and right a couple of times but ended up getting nowhere.

'Cecilia. We'd… be off… Don't …for tomorrow.' Came the broken but recognisable whine of her mother. It sounded like the gramophone downstairs had gotten the better of the butler and had instead forced her mother to sing. A dreadful prospect. But Cecilia was so close, she couldn't stop now.

A few more turns of the dial and still nowhere, but then something odd happened. Odd as in it had never happened to her before on one of these jobs. As soon as Cecilia drew her hands away in mild desperation at the sound of her mother's voice, the safe began to click of its own accord. The dial was moving on its own as if an invisible hand was dictating its movement. After a few seconds, the safe door swung heftily open and a large cloud of dust followed it. When the smoke had dissipated, Cecilia could make out the faint outline of a man in the shadows. As the smoke disappeared she could see the man more clearly. He sat in the safe facing outwards. His legs were crossed like a school child's and a panama hat lay on his lap. A question mark umbrella sat at the shine of his golf shoes in the gap between them and the door of the safe. His eyes sparkled and his short, curly hair shone under the glow of Cecilia's flashlight. He smiled impishly at Cecilia.

'What took you so long?'

-x-x-x-

Thank you for reading. May continue if I get some likes :D xxx


End file.
